


and yours is the light

by twilightstargazer



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellamy Blake is a History & Mythology Nerd, F/M, Fluff, Heart-to-Heart, Hurt/Comfort, Post 3x13, Stargazing, omg that is an actual tag I am alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 15:02:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6758851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightstargazer/pseuds/twilightstargazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Hey Bellamy?’ she whispers in the darkness while he’s getting them both settled, ‘One day they’ll tell stories about you.’</p><p>or, a well deserved quiet moment between these two</p>
            </blockquote>





	and yours is the light

It’s different, being on the drilling platform, but also startlingly similar to the Ark. Metal walls, slightly rusted and scratched due to exposure to the elements, the faint monotonous drum of the waves beating against the tower sounding just like the machine hum in space keeping them orbit, a steel trap. If Bellamy concentrated hard enough he could almost pretend that they were still there, before everything went to shit.

They’re not though, something he’s painfully aware of as they’re lead down the cramped hallway by one of the men who ambushed them on the beach who’s been tasked to show them to their quarters. For one thing, they wouldn’t be stopping in front of a room the size of a shoebox and telling him he’s required to share it with Clarke.

He flings the door open, it’s hinges creaking loudly, to show a small room, no more than six feet in width. ‘For you two,’ the man repeats, looking between them, when they do nothing but gape the first time around.

The two of them share a glance, Bellamy’s jaw working. ‘What,’ he replies, flatly, crossing his arms over his chest.

The man regards him with a quirk of an eyebrow. ‘There is not much room. Luna said that this would not be a problem.’

Bellamy opens his mouth, to tell him that _yes_ , this might be a bit of a problem, because for all he and Clarke are trying to fix things between them, there’s still a long way to go and he’s nowhere near ready to spend a night in a box with her.

Instead though, he gets cut off when Clarke lays a gentle hand on his elbow, stepping forward so they stood side by side. ‘It’s fine,’ she tells the man, ‘Tell Luna that we say thanks for her hospitality.’

The man’s eyes flit down to where she’s grasping his elbow, just for a fraction of a second, before meeting their eyes once more. He seems to be holding back a smirk and Bellamy wishes he still had his gun. Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything, instead jerking his head at Octavia and Jasper. ‘You two are down the hall,’ he says, before pivoting on his heel and expecting them to follow. Bellamy stands with Clarke, and watches them until they turn a corner, out of sight.

He sighs loudly, leaning against the wall. ‘After you,’ he says, gesturing her towards the door with a wry smile. She rolls her eyes but says nothing as she ducks into the room, and he follows after her, pulling the door shut behind him.

It seems even more cramped on the inside; two bunk beds taking up the length of one wall, a slightly rusted metal desk against the other with a jug of water on top it. There’s a door off to the side, and Bellamy has to awkwardly shuffle through the narrow gap, brushing up against Clarke to get a better look at it. It looks to be what used to be a bathroom, and he can see a large basin of water along with some scraps of cloth to wash up.

He sighs again, scrubbing a weary hand across his face. ‘Cosy.’

She wanders over to the bunks, examining the rusted length of steel that supported the mattress. It creaks ominously when she presses her hand down it and Clarke is quick to jump back. Or try to at any rate. What with having little to no room to move, she basically succeeded in stumbling back against Bellamy, and his hand shoots out to steady her.

‘This thing is a death trap,’ she mutters, turning around to face him. Light spills into the room from the small block window, catching on her hair and making it seem as though she’s glowing.

Bellamy blinks, trying to get his thoughts back together. ‘Well, if the only thing we have to worry about is poor engineering skills trying to kill us then I’ll consider that a win,’ he says, and Clarke huffs out a laugh.

Still though, he sinks to ground, curling his legs up underneath him instead of taking the chance with the cot. The metal is cold, even through his layers, and the areas that a scratched catches on his jacket. A beat later, Clarke joins him, sitting close enough to his side that he could feel the warmth rolling off her.

They don’t say anything, not for a while. He tips his head back and closes his eyes, taking a moment to just breathe. He can still hear the occasional creak in the structure, the popping that occurs as the metal expands and contracts, the soft whisper of voices, nonsensical. He probably drifts off for a little while because when he comes to, the room is significantly darker and Clarke has drawn her knees up to her chest, staring at the chip in her hands.

‘What if we don’t get this to work?’ she asks, voice small and low in the darkness, ‘What if we’ve come all this way just to fail?’

He shifts, letting his leg knock against hers in silent comfort. ‘Then we’ll figure something else out,’ he tells her, ‘Raven and Monty are looking for cracks in the code back home, and maybe they might find something that can help us.’

‘This is my fault,’ she sniffs, and in the darkness her can just make out her hand darting up to swipe at her face.

‘Clarke-’

‘No Bellamy, it is,’ she cuts him off, voice thick, ‘I’m the one who got Lexa killed. If it wasn’t for me we’d still have a commander, someone who had the chip and could help us defeat ALIE. But we don’t and that’s because of me.’

He shifts again, this time turning to face her. ‘You through?’ he asks, before reaching for her hand in the dark, ‘I don’t know what happened between you and Lexa, but you’re not the one who killed her, okay? You didn’t want that to happen.’

Clarke ducks her head, sniffling again. ‘I can’t- I can’t do this anymore,’ her voice cracks as she speaks, and he feels his heart splinter in two. ‘Whenever it feels like we’re making progress, something always happens and throws a wrench in it and-. Everyone is counting me and it’s so hard.’

His chest tightens with emotion. ‘Hey,’ he rumbles out, scooting closer so that she can lean on his shoulder, ‘We’ll figure something out. Together.’

She sniffles a few more times, and Bellamy rubs his thumb across the back of her hand in what he hopes is a soothing motion. It doesn’t take long for her to settle, and soon enough she’s brushing off the few tears that have slipped out from her face.

‘I wanted to come back,’ she says at last, leaning her head back and staring at the ceiling. ‘I wanted to come back so badly, that sometimes I made it all the way to the woods outside camp before realising I couldn’t.’

He doesn’t know what to say to that, lips parting in surprising. ‘You could have,’ is what ends up slipping out, and it falls out so easily and all of a sudden that he can’t do anything to mask the pain behind his words.

Clearing his throat, he tries again, ‘I missed you. We all did.’

She turns her hand over, linking their fingers together, the only acknowledgement of having heard his statement. He lets his gaze linger, just for a moment, before going back to staring at the wall across from them.

And then, soft as nothing, she whispers, ‘I missed you too.’

She flashes him a soft smile when he looks over. Clarke squeezes Bellamy’s hand once before letting go of it, and he does his best to not curl it into a fist at his side while he squints through the darkness at her.

‘Can we get out of here?’ she asks, already standing up and stretching. She replaces the chip back in the old tin, quietly slipping it into her jacket. ‘It just feels too much like the Skybox.’

Sometimes he forgets that she was locked away from people for over a year. It seems like a lifetime away. He immediately follows her, getting too his feet. ‘Where do you want to go?’

She shrugs, brushing hair from her face. ‘I don’t know. Let’s just go outside, get some air.’

Not even ten minutes later were they sitting in a corner of the helipad, halfway hidden by a ledge above them. It was later than he thought, though no one paid them a second thought as they walked through the halls before stumbling upon their corner. The wind whipped through the air, nipping at their exposed skin and carrying with it the smell of the ocean laced with the bitter undertones of rust. Down below he could hear the waves crashing against the tower that held them upright, and just see the water barely glistening under the pale moonlight.

Clarke is slumped against him, curled up against his side with her chin on his shoulder to brave against the wind. There’s something like electricity flowing between them and Bellamy wonders if only he can feel it.

‘Do you ever miss it?’ she asks, voice slightly muffled by the sleeve of his jacket as they stare up at the stars, ‘The Ark?’

He shifts, trying his best not to jostle her as he moves his leg into a more comfortable position. ‘Sometimes,’ he says slowly, ‘Even up there I still had to be on guard.’

For Octavia. To protect his mother.

It goes unspoken between, but she still hooks her pinkie with his, a sign of reassurance.

They lapse back into silence, and after a particularly hard gust of wind, Clarke cuddles further into his side, shivering. He doesn’t look over as he shifts to put his arm around her, but he feels his skin flush for some reason, especially when the wind carries over the sound of her breathy sigh. Bellamy ignores it of course, instead tilting his head skyward and looking up at the stars.

Her cheek presses against his shoulder and he lets his thumb, ever so slowly, brush across her wrist before settling over her pulse. He could feel it, fluttering against the pads of his fingers and if he tries hard enough, he can almost feel his beating in sync.

He finds himself staring back up at the stars, so different from back up on the Ark, yet still familiar. Pin pricks of light shining through the darkness.

Almost, as though echoing his thoughts, Clarke sighs, ‘I’ve never taken the opportunity to look at the stars down here.’

Bellamy glances over at her. ‘The first night we spent on earth,’ he begins slowly, the fond memory pulling a smile to his face, ‘Octavia dragged me out and made me tell her the stories found in the stars. She never got the chance to see them on the Ark, and down here... she was just in awe.’

Clarke is looking over at him, head cocked to the side. ‘Stories?’ she asks, forehead wrinkling. He itches to lean across and smoothen it. ‘You mean like myths?’

‘Yeah,’ he nods, ‘Our mom, she used to tell them to us every night. When things started getting tougher, I took over telling O while mom worked.’

And then, just because he can, he leans in closer to her, to prevent his words from being taken away with the wind. He points to a star in the sky. ‘That’s Sirius, the brightest star in the sky. He’s found in Canis Major, a constellation for Laelaps, one of Orion’s hunting dogs.’

Clarke turns, her face mere inches away from his. ‘Who would have thought,’ she teases gently, ‘Bellamy Blake, a mythology nerd.’

This time she does notice the tips of his ears turning red, and laughs, soft and low, the sounding travelling down his spine and causing something warm to bloom in his stomach. He has to look away from her for a moment, and tries his best to keep the memory of her laughter in his mind. She doesn’t do it nearly enough.

She tugs on his hand with her pinkie that is still hooked through his and says, ‘Tell me more?’

And he does.

He tells of Orion, the great huntsman eventually slain by Artemis, and Prometheus, convicted for doing the right thing. He speaks about Cassiopeia and Andromeda and Perseus, weaving the tale of Atlas, doomed to carry the world on his shoulders for eternity. He tells her all that he can remember while Clarke looks on, enraptured for as long as she can.

Eventually, when his fingers have gone numb from cold and Clarke is half asleep on his shoulder, does he stop, finishing with the story of Theseus and Ariadne as she shivers from the cold.

‘Come on,’ he says, his voice reduced to just a rasp after speaking for so long, ‘Let’s go back inside before you freeze out here.’

She blinks blearily, squinting up at him and Bellamy can’t help the soft smile that blossoms onto his face.

‘But you were telling me about-’

‘I’ll finish it later when we’re not at risk of dying from hypothermia out here,’ he cuts in, and Clarke makes a face.

They shuffle back to room, Bellamy supporting most of her weight and keeping his hand pressed to the small of her back. She sits gingerly on the cot, but other than the terrible groaning sound of the metal, it seems to hold. Still though, neither of them want to chance it with the top bunk, so he ends up dragging the old mattress to the ground after helping Clarke out of her boots.

‘Hey Bellamy?’ she whispers in the darkness while he’s getting them both settled, ‘One day they’ll tell stories about you.’

He ducks his head to hide his smile, even though he knows that she possibly can’t see it, not in the darkness, not when she’s already half asleep. Still, it sends a thrill through him and he finds himself leaning forward to press a tender kiss to her forehead. His lips linger for a brief moment and he hears her sigh, even as she tangles their fingers together again.

‘They’ll tell stories about you too, Clarke Griffin,’ he tells her, gruffly, lying on the mattress.

He keeps their hands tangled together, even as they both drift off to sleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell with me on [tumblr](http://hiddenpolkadots.tumblr.com/)


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